


la cage, l'agneau

by Idiosyncrasies



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idiosyncrasies/pseuds/Idiosyncrasies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth was five when she saw her first Tear--although, in hindsight, she realized that she felt it more than she saw. That was important. It had always been important. It would always be important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	la cage, l'agneau

Elizabeth was five when she saw her first Tear--although, in hindsight, she realized that she felt it more than she saw. That was important. It had always been important. It would always be important.

There, staring up at the stars that her father's big, scary men had painted up at the ceiling, Elizabeth thought of the real stars and the real sky, and of brisk nights and of happy couples eating at French delis, just like she'd seen in all the movies. Then it was there: a crawling on her skin, like white noise against her nerves; and a silver light dancing across the points of gold. The universe was playing connect-the-dots for her, and for whatever reason she wasn't scared. She would never get very good at being afraid.

She reached up. She wanted it. She wanted to know it, she wanted to touch it, despite knowing somewhere in her bones that she shouldn't. And she found that wanting it was all it took. The ceiling opened up because she wanted it to, and there, from corner to corner, the sky had come into her bedroom. Stars and constellations, the sound of crickets, the smell of fresh bread. Somewhere, people. Other people!

She brought the sky into her room every single night for a year, and she sat beneath the stars with her books and her maps, trying to find out where in the world she this sky was waiting for her, but the sky always moved, and she couldn't ask for help. This was a secret. This was _her_ sky.

As she grew older, she got better and better at naming parts of the sky, but her portals grew smaller and smaller. She never quite knew what she was doing wrong, but she couldn't focus on that. She couldn't let go of the one thing in her tower that really, properly belonged to her.

One day, she could only pull in a small bit of the sky. Just enough to wave at Orion and his belt, firmly in place just like it should be. Maybe she didn't need to know; maybe she never would. Maybe she was holding onto a game she played in childhood, and maybe it was time to grow up.

But then she heard music. A piano cord, a violin, a woman singing. French!

_Ma chambre a la forme d'une cage_   
_Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre_   
_Les chasseurs à ma porte_   
_Comme les petits soldats_   
_Qui veulent me prendre_

"I know a thing or two about cages," Elizabeth said to herself. She couldn't even be sad about it. She had found France after all, and this was real--it had to be. She was losing her private patch of sky, but that just meant she would have to get out and claim it with her own two hands.


End file.
